The illegitimate grandchildren of Beefheart's magic band and TFUL 282 transplanted to New York for their daily dosage of weird smells, angst, and mayhem. Tailspin turns, blasts of distorted animal sounds, mad rumbling, and drunken elephantine rhythms all combine to make your kneecaps burp. Featuring current members of Drumhead, Wharton Tiers Ensemble, Fly Ashtray, and Dymaxion; former members of Caroliner and Cattle Prod.

"Autobody wheeze out instrumental lurk-passages that are lit only by damp phosphorescent rags. There are some parts with identifiable 'rock' signifiers, but they're soon covered with talcy mud and whisked away, making this an extremely pleasant diversion." —The Wire

The first full-length release from Austin, TX darlings featuring past participants in Country Teasers, Palace Brothers, Rodan, and The For Carnation. "1901" rewinds the historical record against a contradictory soundtrack of murky guitar smashups and organ-drenched lyricism.

"This band deftly engineers its way around the creaky and worn path of the lost '90s blues, using spiky guitars and smart drums to get its needle-tipped point across." —Your Flesh Quarterly

The perfect combination of tension and melody on this 7-song disc. Guitars buzz, drone, squeal, and ring like bells while lonesome-cowboy vocals float on top (or out back somewhere). Caterwauling drums (by Mike Gendreau of Crawling With Tarts) and loping, skewed bass riffs recklessly drive the whole thing forward. An overwhelming sense of haunting beauty, melancholy, and unease.

"Rrope has an ambitiously broad sense of its sound: one song is full of guitar feedback and wail, the next is a quiet, quirky little piece full of odd sounds and clever lyrics. Little snippets and noises slip by and melodies twist and contort themselves, taking smart hairpin turns, dips and ascents, forcing an active listen to this demon." —CMJ

This Olympia, WA quartet plays some of the most skewed blue toreador tunes, frenzied noise workouts, and mutant rockunroll you'll find anywhere. 13 dusty heartbreaks lurch, twist, and stagger to make you alternately cry into your beer and hurl your sombrero skyward. Featuring Jeff Fuccillo of Wham-O and Union Pole fame and Noggin's Michael Griffen on violin. Terror on two-track.

"Excellent excretions from this Olympia, WA quintet. Not bound or constrained, they are banditos gleefully raiding a variety of forms and cultures." —Browbeat

The first full-length album from Bay Area cult favorites has become an SBR classic and easily one of the most-requested releases in the catalog. Precise agitation and unbridled chaos mount from the first notes to take you schlepping through the backwaters of rock. Stubborn bass lines, brash guitar squawkage, catastrophic drumming and impertinent singing about insects and fear, all combined into a single calming salve for your wounds (yeah, right). Not to be experienced without a reaction.

"They don't sound like anybody and that is impressive in this day and age. Just like those old episodes of the Twilight Zone where the neon signs flash on and off and the guy is slowly losing his mind." —Snackcake

The final album from one of the Bay Area's great innovators of the 1990s. This one builds on previous recordings with more live-to-tape recording and improvisational tidbits, all the while maintaining the unnerving guitar and bass figures, horn noodles and vocal gymnastics that always seem to make reviewers say "art pop." Whatever you choose to call it, they're just fucking great.

"It's physical, as if a wrecking ball were fired at your diaphragm. Thus, a kind of mutual catharsis is born for both band and fan alike via the best form of group therapy: Great Music." —BAM

The final, unreleased studio album from the Bay Area's dirgiest dredgers is now available for the first time. Experimental blue rock songs that are so white they will whiten your teeth, they will whiten your face ... you will be SO pale. Erasergun continues their lyrical assault on the English language while new rhythms, new time signatures, and new instruments grow beyond the previous recordings and are ground down to their base elements.

A call to arms of sorts backed with a dark, spooky affair about things gone awry. This line-up features Fibulator's big bottom, Ken Holt, on bass and sees the band reunited with their first singer, Nat Parsons. Swinging, stinging, dynamic guitar pop bent backwards.

"An outlandish collision of delirious sounds, contrasting vocal styles and deft instrumental bits." —Puncture

The debut LP from Oakland's undisputed bantamweight champions. Din Triptych skirts around time signatures and tempos like they were hungry crocodiles. Six epics (each clocking in at exactly 7 minutes and 6 seconds) about high school cheers, Mazda commercials, and stalkers are somehow serious and beautiful without actually providing reasons for either reaction. Confusing, to say the least.

"Three salamanders with wrist braces rewrite chaos theory as we know it. Are you on the cutting edge of physics or not, asshole?" —Seymour Glass

The album that started it all. Two great bands for one cheap price. This record-time recording ranges from superb slop to overthunk plump. Ken Mallemuck Stockwell tears through pop music with chainsaw guitars leaving you sweetly panting. Erasergun begins their legacy with their first leans and lurches into the darker side of black and blue notes. Hand-silkscreened cover featuring Silly Bird's full logo by F. Crites.

"This split LP of two very divergent Northern California bands is certainly an odd pairing. Regardless of whether this coupling is a statement or an accident, each side is a solid effort in its own genre. Flamboyant, bizarre." —CMJ